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“Seriously, bro,” Cason called again. “You gonna do any actual work today?”
“Nah,” Quinn said. “He's probably got a hair and manicure appointment.”
“Probably booked himself a spa day,” Cason said.
They laughed together like they thought they were the funniest guys on Earth. What those clowns know about running a business though, I could probably squeeze into a thimble. Without me, we would have been out of business a long time ago – not planning for expansion.
And part of running a business was having a face to put to it. Public relations. Looking and acting like a professional. Neither of those two clowns could pull it off. That responsibility fell to me. And yet, they're going to sit there and bust my balls about me doing my job? It's shit like that, that pissed me off about them.
Walking over to the truck, I grabbed a couple of boxes and walked over, tossing them into the back of the food truck at Cason's feet without a word. Both of them looked at me, a surprised look on their faces.
“What's up with you?” Quinn asked.
“I'm just doing a little actual work,” I snapped. “Gotta help out before my spa appointment, right?”
“Dude,” Cason said. “What's your deal? We're just giving you shit.”
I turned back to them, my anger flaring. “Yeah, well maybe I'm getting sick of you two giving me shit,” I say. “Maybe, I'm sick and tired of you assholes walking around acting like you do all the work around here and I don't do shit.”
“Dude, c'mon,” Quinn said. “It's not like that –”
“No?” I turn on him. “Then how is it exactly?”
“C'mon, bro,” Cason said. “We're just screwin' around like we always do. We know you work hard to keep the Driftwood going.”
I look at both of them and see that my little outburst bothered them. Good. I get sick and tired of the both of them acting like I'm not doing anything just because I'm not lugging shit around to one event or another. The work I do for the Driftwood is important. And it's every bit as critical to keep it alive as Cason's cooking is. And it's high time both of them realize that – and appreciate all the shit I do for all of us.
“C'mon, man,” Quinn said, wrapping his arm around my neck. “Don't be such a whiny little bitch. Not today. Today's supposed to be fun!”
“Seriously, bro,” Cason said. “It's all good, man. We're just bustin' your balls.”
Slowly, the anger dissipated and then faded away completely. I couldn't stay mad at these assholes for long. It's just how we were wired – the Three Musketeers. We were always there for one another, through thick and thin. “Yeah, fine,” I said. “Just stop being such douchebags for a change.”
Cason shrugged. “It's in the McCormick blood, man,” he said. “I don't know what to tell ya.”
“Yeah, and Ben here seems to have gotten a double dose of it.”
I gave him the finger, but laughed, the tension that had saturated the air between us completely evaporating. I punched Quinn in the shoulder and shook my head.
“Come on,” I said. “Let's finish unloading the truck already. I have an appointment to get my hair cut in an hour.”
“I knew it,” Quinn said. “Such a prissy little bitch.”
CHAPTER FIVE – HAILEY
At the Bonfire...
The incredible aroma of the Driftwood BBQ filled my nostrils and made my mouth water. And my tummy growled loud enough that Jenn turned and looked at me with an amused expression on her face.
“Hungry?” she asked. “Maybe you should get you some good old-fashioned Driftwood BBQ.”
“Maybe, I should,” I said, taking a long sip from my sweet tea – something else I'd missed when I was in California. “Maybe, I'll do that.”
I looked over at the food truck, and as delightful as it sounded, the idea of running into familiar faces – other than Jenn's – filled me with a deep sense of unease. Especially, if those familiar faces belonged to the brothers who now owned the truck.
The McCormick brothers had never been mean to me – not like some of the others in my little hometown had been. We'd just never been exactly close. Cason was my age and had been my lab partner in Biology my sophomore year – not that I expected he'd remember that. And I'd had brief interactions with all three of them over my high school years.
But, it's not like we'd ever been friends. They ran in different circles than I had. They were the popular boys and I was the invisible girl. Hell, if I walked over to the truck and put in my order, they probably wouldn't even remember me. That's what I said to reassure myself once the hunger pangs got to be too much for me to bear any longer.
